one of the heralds of the dawn. He hated tyranny in the name of kings,
and in the name of God, with every drop of his noble blood. He believed
in liberty and justice, and in the sacred doctrine of human equality.
Under these divine banners he fought the battle of his life. In both
worlds he offered his blood for the good of man. In the wilderness of
America, in the French assembly, in the sombre cell waiting for death,
he was the same unflinching, unwavering friend of his race; the same
undaunted champion of universal freedom. And for this he has been
hated; for this the church has violated even his grave.

This is enough to make one believe that nothing is more natural than for
men to devour their benefactors. The people in all ages have crucified
and glorified. Whoever lifts his voice against abuses, whoever arraigns
the past at the bar of the present, whoever asks the king to show his
commission, or question the authority of the priest, will be denounced
as the enemy of man and God. In all ages reason has been regarded as
the enemy of religion. Nothing has been considered so pleasing to the
Deity as a total denial of the authority of your own mind. Self-reliance
has been thought deadly sin; and the idea of living and dying without
the aid and consolation of superstition has always horrified the church.
By some unaccountable infatuation, belief has been and still is
considered of immense importance. All religions have been based upon
the idea that God will forever reward the true believer, and eternally
damn the man who doubts or denies. Belief is regarded as the one
essential thing. To practice justice, to love mercy, is not enough;
you must believe in some incomprehensible creed. You must say: "Once
one is three, and three times one is one." The man who practiced every
virtue, but failed to believe, was execrated. Nothing so outrages the
feelings of the church as a moral unbeliever, nothing so horrible as a
charitable atheist.